Not Meant
by Chicago Typewriter
Summary: ONESHOT, rewritten and uploaded. Ginny's fate is reflected by the two that loved her. D/G H/G


**AN: This was written during 2005, so I would have been around fifteen and insanely emo… before emo was emo. Not exactly sure what the purpose was… perhaps to reconcile the D/G and the H/G ship I was torn by back then. Now, everyone obviously knows who the real couple is but D/G was always a guilty pleasure… along with killing off my favorite characters. Like **_**Everything Was, Everything Is**_**, this is not a happy story. Also, I do not own Harry Potter. **

**Not Meant**

The smoke was so thick and black he could barely see though it.

He could barely see the steering wheel in his hand and even less the road he was supposed to be focused on. Twice, he had the passing thought of perhaps lowering the window to let the smoke from Dean and Seamus' Muggle cigarettes and drugs out. And maybe if he did, he wouldn't be standing, six days later, in the pouring rain. The thought was a stab in the dark, every single time.

Maybe if he had, she wouldn't be mangled and destroyed. She would have been glowing, laughing with him and her brothers. She would have been with him, Harry thought and it was enough to kill him. Three months ago, he had proposed to Ginevra Juliette Weasley, the redhead who managed to see to the very depths of his being and recognize the unscarred part of him, and six days ago he had killed her in the time it took for his heart to beat. He stood close to the scar on the ground, close to the slender, beautiful coffin – across from Ron who was hundreds of uncrossable miles from him. He avoided them skillfully.

They couldn't look at him, the cause of this, and he understood. How could they? He noted Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were not present. He wasn't sure he would have survived a meeting with them. How could they? He had killed his best friend's little sister, his lover, his fiancée, and his life. He was surprised he could walk or even think… but thinking was impossible. Thinking meant he would recall…

He was gasping for breath, mind whirling violently, when he staggered out of the car – hoping so hard that he was wrong. His friends crept behind him, holding their breath, and when they saw the red hair, the astonishing blood, her body sprawled across the road, her back twisted in a grotesque way...it was all wrong. Dean had thrown up on the spot, not even bothering to double over, vomit just poured out his mouth as his face twisted in horror at the recognition of the bruised face, Seamus had simply turned away, hands covering his face, and Neville... poor Neville. He had gripped Harry's arm so hard Harry almost thought it would snap at the pressure.

Harry, oh god he cant even describe it, just fell to ground – everything inside him came undone like the snap of a belt. He dropped like a stone and blacked out into a tormented sleep where her face was the only thing he saw until after until he woke up at St. Mungo's with Luna tending to an aching bruise on his temple. He must have cracked his head against the road.

"Good Morning," she had said tonelessly.

 No.  She didn't respond, so he guessed she knew. She was Ginny's best friend, but he wanted her to scream at him, to possibly even slap him, that wasn't like Luna. Luna would just state the facts, no matter how much it hurt: how and where Ron was, were the funeral would be held… if he was allowed to attend.

Finally, he stood in a black suit, barely visible in the dark rain while his Ginny was lowered to the ground; Harry looked around, and caught sight the other one. Draco Malfoy. Enemies in every aspect… competitors for her heart – he could not longer feel anything but the deep, aching grief. Draco, with his startling presence in black, leaned against a tree, not fat from where he stood by the coffin.

Those pale gray eyes were staring right at the place where her body was disappearing into the grass. Unknown to himself, he started forward; needing to be near her until he was next to his life long nemesis.

 She shouldn't be in there, Draco whispered. His throat hurt. 

No. She is not."

They waited and watched as her family and friends shuddered at the sight of the coffin hitting the bottom of the grave and sink into the water. Harry looked unable to see anything but the muddy grass, until Ron's shoes came into view and he wished to the greatest being to let him run away – anywhere. He would never survive any accusation Ron had. He'd loose his mind. He looked up and saw Ron staring at him. The look in his eyes were expressionless, but he knew he could never look at his friend again without remembering how he looked when Ron first came to visit him, how they both cried. He had never seen Ron cry before, but then he never lost a sister to his best friend.  

Are you coming to the Burrow? The question took courage, Harry noted, but he knew he would never set foot in her home again. Harry shook his head slightly. He wanted to stay here by her, not be in a crowd of people that whispered whenever they saw him, as the Fiancée, and the reason she is dead. 

I – I want to stay here," he said softly, not moving when Ron turned his back on him and moved away to the row of cars that awaited him. Draco never spoke or moved. Both of then stared down at the disgusting box that held the woman they loved. It was impossible for them to never hear her chiming laugh.

"She chose you," Draco said. Little drops of rain his hair and trickled down his forehead, eventually dropping into the grave – the tears he failed to shed.  

I don't think she was meant for either of us, Harry said hollowly and stared at the rising water in the grave. She'd loved them both. How could she not, her heart was strong enough to love Draco and give him the warmth he'd always sought after. They turned away. Harry to his home and Draco to his manor. 

I guess she wasn't. he whispered.


End file.
